Nobody was worrying about a long drive home.
Nobody was calculating how many months would pass before our next visit.
We were simply together.
Later that night, when everyone had gone home, Robert and I stood on the front porch and looked at the quiet street.
“Are you still angry with me?” he asked.
“A little.”
He smiled.
“How long will that last?”
“Until tomorrow morning.”
He laughed and kissed my forehead.
I leaned against his shoulder.
“Robert, next time you plan a surprise, just tell me we’re going somewhere nice.”
“I will.”
“And never tell me I’m going to lose my children again.”
His smile faded into something gentler.
“I promise.”
I looked at the warm lights glowing in our children’s houses nearby and felt a peace I hadn’t experienced in years.
That day, my husband had frightened me into believing I was about to lose my children forever. Instead, he had brought me thousands of miles closer to them—or at least, close enough that I could visit whenever I wanted.
